


Won't Let You

by capirony



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, fear of thunder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capirony/pseuds/capirony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve thinks he's been doing quite all right in this bright, new world, but in reality he's just as scared as he ought to be.</p>
<p>It's a good thing Tony's there to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't Let You

Steve was sitting in his bedroom, staring out at the city as the lights down below blurred by the rain dripping down the glass while the thunder created ghastly silhouettes that burned themselves into Steve's eyes. The rain was calming and he could handle the lightning because, well, Thor. But the thunder. 

It roars. 

Rumbling, loud, angry, furious. Shaking the floor. Bombs. Mud. Slipping. Guns. More bombs. Blood. Falling. Falling. Getting back up. Unable to get back up. So much blood. Body parts. Bodies everywhere.

Then the rumbling stops and the storm seems normal again. Rain and the occasional flash of light. 

Steve calms his breath, stops his shaking. He doesn't close his eyes, he's no coward, and instead wills the thoughts away. Sends them to a place where he can't see them anymore. That is, until the thunder booms again. 

He's almost pressed up to the glass that separates him and the rain, curled up into himself, staring with blank eyes out into the night. It's not quiet, well not outside at least, but he's craving something that doesn't sound like scary. 

He's terrified.

The door creaks open behind the soldier, but he makes no motion of surprise nor of turning to see who has entered his nightmare. He knows. It's always the same person. Always the same one who insists on saving him from this horrible dream.

"Steve." Tony breathes as footsteps bring the hero closer to the soldier. Arms are wrapped around the blonde's shoulders from behind and he sags into them, eyes still glued to the storm as the rest of his body accommodates to the man behind him. 

Tony's breath his on his neck, his head resting on Steve's shoulder. The gentle scratch of his goatee feels safe and the soft wisps of hair along his collarbone tickle. One hand is rubbing soothing circles on Steve's chest while the other has somehow become tangled with another not of it's kind. He's comforting Steve, and he knows it. But Steve knows he's just trying to save him. To take him away from the storm before the thunder strikes aga--

Steve feels his whole body tense as the images come flowing back. He feels a pleasant rumble against his chest before the warmth is gone and Steve can only feel mud and blood and dirt and guns and bombs and slipping and falling and-- Then it's all gone. 

He focuses on what's in front of him, because it's not the storm. 

He has somehow ended up on his back on the floor, Tony's dark shadow flowing over him. Tony's on top of him, knees on either side of Steve's hips; he's pinning Steve down even though he knows Steve is able to lift him off of him without any issues. Steve lets out a breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding in and Tony relaxes. His own breath feels too damp, sounds too loud. It's shocking that it took him this long to realized Tony's hands are clamped firmly down over his ears, Tony's eyes staring deep into his own. 

Steve cries.

It sounds loud and odd because Tony is still keeping out the sound, yet Steve cannot make himself stop. He closes his eyes because he is a coward and doesn't complain when Tony lies his body down, covering Steve up. Their foreheads are resting together and Steve can feel the sweat, can smell the scared. He can smell Tony and it's a pleasant mixture of expensive cologne, metal and grease, but Steve loves it. He loves every part of it. 

After a lifetime, Steve opens his eyes, not startled in the least to see Tony staring right back down at him. Slowly, the hands leave his ears and instead cradle his head. Like he's precious. Like he's worth it. Like he's not broken.

"Don't do this anymore," Tony's voice is soft, sad, and hurt. Like Steve's doing this on purpose just to spite him. He's not. "Come and find me. Don't go hurting yourself. You are worth this Steve. You do belong here with us--" his voice breaks, "with me."

Tony's the one crying now and Steve follows suit, silent tears streaming down his face, mixing with the ones dripping from Tony's. Steve's hands come up in one gentle sweep and gather Tony to him, holding him close as they cry together on the floor of his bedroom as the storm begins to calm outside. Steve let's his lips indulge in Tony's, pressing against the warm skin once, twice, five times, before letting it become something deeper. Something they can hold onto, something they can remember. He let's his lips linger, forming the words they both need, the words they both know are true.

Tony does the same and then they're sobbing again, the storm becoming nothing more than a dull patter on his bedroom window.


End file.
